I Piss Poetry
by Tom Miller
© FREDInk Productions
Revised and edited by Tom Miller on
Thursday, January 19, 2006
by Tom Miller
© FREDInk Productions
Revised and edited by Tom Miller on
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Sloppy Drunks
There’s a fine line between
Socially lubricated and
Drooling scum bag
I get funnier when I’m drunk
Or at least it seems that way to me
But I’m not a sloppy drunk
Like my friend over here
Mumbling how he’d like to fuck
Every woman at the bar
Including the one with
Three tits and a beard
It’s okay, I tell him
You’re drunk. That’s a good excuse for
Everything you ever do wrong
And tomorrow I’ll ask him
If he remembers
Sucking my dick
One Of Those Days?
I want to fuck a jar of mayonnaise
And shit in the bath tub
I want to roll in a pile of red ants
And sift through the ocean looking for feathers
It’s one of those days
Those days
Those days
You know the kind of day
One of those
I want to put my balls in a glass of vintage wine
And open my eyes with my head in a bucket of bleach
I want to ride my motorcycle into a wall
And fart on a beautiful flower
Sometimes I just want to cry
Alone in a dark room
Cry about everything I fucked up in my life
Cry and regret until my nuts swell up
And then I want to beat off on my face
And cum in a contorted position I’ll never be able
To get out of
I want them to find me like that
Twisted into a knot with feathers and cum on my face
Mayo on my dick, shit in the bath tub
Eyes bleached white, skin dotted with ant bites
One dead flower
A puddle of tears and motorcycle parts
And a glass of vintage wine
That my nuts were in
It’s one of those days
Those days
Those days
You know the kind of day
One of those
On The Road Sucks
When the bums pass me by without asking for change
And say, "Hello, Tom Miller."
I know I’ve almost made it to the top of the bottom
A few more poems and I’ll have my spot clinched
I never liked,
On the road
Dead Sucker Fish
It was one of those black fish
That suck on the sides of the tank
With their lips
Sucks on the rocks and lets the water
Roll over them suck up and down
Sucking up the muck
When the tank turned green
And the orange fish died
The white one was still going
But really really slowly
The black suckerfish seemed the same
Just sucking it— but I noticed
It was turning gray
A couple of weeks later when the
Apartment started to smell, I asked my
Roommate, Why don’t you do something?
Look, the white one’s dead now and the black
One’s turning yellow.
Fish love bacteria, he said. They’ll be okay.
The black fish kept sucking but it didn’t move very much
Especially when the air filter gave out
A week later, the water was green, the black fish was
White, but its eyes were still open, looking…
Looking for something, I don’t know what
Maybe an air filter
The suckerfish is dead, I said, all the fish are dead.
I’ll take care of it soon, said my roommate.
When the mosquitoes began to breed
I moved out
I think of the suckerfish often. Think of how much
It sucked to be that fish.
We’re all that fish, Aren’t we.
Violets Growing in Scum
The scum is a cool green Fiestaware plate
There is one violet in the center
Somehow alive and trying to sing a song
Trying to sing Vivaldi in the green scum
Standing proudly
I have survived even this, she sings
A butterfly lands on the violet and plants an egg
I want to step on them both but I don’t
Things take care of themselves
The butterfly drops into the green scum
And flutters around until it pulls itself under
And soon after, the flower wilts and sinks
To the bottom
The scum is a cool green Fiestaware plate
There is one violet in the center
Nobody can see it anymore
Rebel With Menopause
I want to go to city hall
And turn off the power main
Right in the middle of a big meeting
As if it will make any difference
I want to go to city hall
And take one screw out
Every day for the next ten years
As if anyone will notice
I want to go to city hall
And plant marijuana seeds
In the garden and call the police to
Arrest all the commissioners
I want to go to city hall
Into the mayor’s office and pretend
I’m Shelly Winters and start singing
Show tunes until they come for me
I want to go to city hall
Wearing only a cock ring and a
Clothespin— you guess where I put
The clothespin
I want to go to city hall
Up to the high security doors to the
Meeting rooms and bang on them and
Scream, "Let me in my building!"
I want to go to city hall
And tie tampons in everyone’s hair
Tampons soaked in blood from
Manatees and Florida panthers
I want to go to city hall
With a protest sign that says, "I
Protest!" And I want to shout, "I protest!
I can’t take it anymore!"
I want to go to city hall
And tell the media that I’m protesting
And when they ask me what I’m protesting
I’ll tell them, "Nothing. I’m just protesting."
Futility
A snail was making its way
Across the sidewalk
Ever so slowly
And I watched for an hour
The snail making its way
Across the sidewalk
Ever so slowly
And when the snail
Finally made its way
Across the sidewalk
Ever so slowly
I picked it up and put it
Back where it started from
The Rules of Love
Love is the most important thing
In the world
But there are some rules to abide by
To properly love
#1. Don’t make love with your friends. Friends
Are for friendship. Lovers should be people you
Can easily get rid of.
#2. Don’t say, "I love you." It will ruin everything.
Instead say, "Would you like to fuck?"
#3. When making love to your lover, be sure to
Never tell them who you are imagining them to be
When you’re having an orgasm.
#4. Try to flirt with other people only when your
Lover isn’t watching you.
#5. When you cheat, try to keep it a secret so your
Lover won’t dump you. You don’t want to lose all that
Free money.
#6. Make sure you only steal thing your lover might
Not miss. Don’t take all the bills in the purse, just take
A few. This works better if your lover comes home drunk.
#7. Always make eye contact when you lie, and don’t
Blink too much. Sell the lie.
#8. If things become so routine that you plan on
Getting married, make sure you buy a ring that looks
Expensive but really isn’t. a used ring is best, or a ring
Stolen from your last lover.
#9. Don’t masturbate when your lover is around. You don’t
Want your lover to know you need to get off without them
Sometimes… lots of times.
#10. Remember the golden rule of love: What’s important is
What people believe; not the truth.
Whiskey Can Turn Anyone
Into Someone You Can Fuck
It usually only takes a shot or two
But sometimes a bottle will not do
I Was Looking For You in the Library
I checked under butterflies
And planets and art
I looked in the science section
And checked in the literature isle
I tried to find you under poetry
But you were not there
I was sure you were a flower
I tried law and sports and
All the books on chess
You were nowhere to be found
Were you hiding from me?
Why?
Why when I love you so much?
I went through Tolstoy, Einstein, Beethoven,
Faust, the Bible, every periodical and magazine
Jung, Robert Frost, Rimbaud, I almost thought
I saw you in Rimbaud but I was mistaken
Just as I had given up hope, I found you there
Where I should have looked from the beginning
Crystal Clear: The Story of Diamonds
By McKay
I haven’t returned it yet
And the overdue notices keep coming
Live at the Downtown Plaza
After building and rebuilding the
Downtown Plaza, they finally got it right
There’s a nice canopy over the stage
And every Friday, a local band plays
But my favorite show is
The two bums who sleep on the stage
Every night under their piss soaked quilts
Two bums sleep. It should win the Tony
It’s so real, almost like they’re not acting
Almost like two people trying to escape
Hell for real
Mostly nobody comes to the show because
It runs so late and so long
But I’ve caught it several times and there’s
No better performance in town
Not at the Hippodrome or the college theater
Not even at the community playhouse
All that stuff is fake and the prices for the tickets
Are so expensive
But this show is so real and free to watch
Sometimes they turn in their sleep but mostly
They just lie there. It’s so avant-garde, I can’t stand it!
I’m going to invite all my friends and we’ll have
Dinner and cocktails on the patio, watching
The two bums who sleep on the stage
Hell, these guys don’t even bow, they just
Get up and walk around asking for money
The Rat Had a Finger in its Mouth
This hairy wet rat
Came running by
With a finger in its
Mouth
Look at that rat, my
Friend said, it’s got a
Finger
A human finger
Hanging out of its
Mouth
How about that, I said,
I’ve never seen such a
Thing before
The rat had a
Finger in its mouth
And it came running by
Across the street and
Down into the sewer
Drain
Finger and all
I wonder whose finger
It was, I said
Yeah, said my friend,
Me too.
Fight the Poem
This thing almost wouldn’t let me write it
It resisted with every ounce of strength
Throwing punches and kicks
I was swollen and bleeding, trying
To get the motherfucker down
On the page for the one two three count
Probably the baddest poem of all
It must have been in training for months
To give me such a fight— jab uppercut right cross
I stabbed with my pen hammered with my
Typewriter crunched and shimmied with my
Word processor but the poem dodged
Flanked sidestepped turned played
Rope-a-dope cussed and danced and stung
Round four I had the cut man open my eyes
Blood poured down my face
This was one tough sonovabitch! But I had
Seen all its fights and studied the moves
I knew what was coming and just when the
Chips were down and it tried to clock me
For the knockout, I slipped around the blow
And cold cocked it under the chin
It was dazed, and a one two flourish with a
Screaming left hook dropped it to the mat
One two three… the crowd was on its feet
Four five six… the shouts and cat calls echoed
Seven eight nine… get up! Shouted the corner man
Don’t let this pussy have his day in the sun
Ten. It was knocked out cold.
I had won another poem.
There’s a fine line between
Socially lubricated and
Drooling scum bag
I get funnier when I’m drunk
Or at least it seems that way to me
But I’m not a sloppy drunk
Like my friend over here
Mumbling how he’d like to fuck
Every woman at the bar
Including the one with
Three tits and a beard
It’s okay, I tell him
You’re drunk. That’s a good excuse for
Everything you ever do wrong
And tomorrow I’ll ask him
If he remembers
Sucking my dick
One Of Those Days?
I want to fuck a jar of mayonnaise
And shit in the bath tub
I want to roll in a pile of red ants
And sift through the ocean looking for feathers
It’s one of those days
Those days
Those days
You know the kind of day
One of those
I want to put my balls in a glass of vintage wine
And open my eyes with my head in a bucket of bleach
I want to ride my motorcycle into a wall
And fart on a beautiful flower
Sometimes I just want to cry
Alone in a dark room
Cry about everything I fucked up in my life
Cry and regret until my nuts swell up
And then I want to beat off on my face
And cum in a contorted position I’ll never be able
To get out of
I want them to find me like that
Twisted into a knot with feathers and cum on my face
Mayo on my dick, shit in the bath tub
Eyes bleached white, skin dotted with ant bites
One dead flower
A puddle of tears and motorcycle parts
And a glass of vintage wine
That my nuts were in
It’s one of those days
Those days
Those days
You know the kind of day
One of those
On The Road Sucks
When the bums pass me by without asking for change
And say, "Hello, Tom Miller."
I know I’ve almost made it to the top of the bottom
A few more poems and I’ll have my spot clinched
I never liked,
On the road
Dead Sucker Fish
It was one of those black fish
That suck on the sides of the tank
With their lips
Sucks on the rocks and lets the water
Roll over them suck up and down
Sucking up the muck
When the tank turned green
And the orange fish died
The white one was still going
But really really slowly
The black suckerfish seemed the same
Just sucking it— but I noticed
It was turning gray
A couple of weeks later when the
Apartment started to smell, I asked my
Roommate, Why don’t you do something?
Look, the white one’s dead now and the black
One’s turning yellow.
Fish love bacteria, he said. They’ll be okay.
The black fish kept sucking but it didn’t move very much
Especially when the air filter gave out
A week later, the water was green, the black fish was
White, but its eyes were still open, looking…
Looking for something, I don’t know what
Maybe an air filter
The suckerfish is dead, I said, all the fish are dead.
I’ll take care of it soon, said my roommate.
When the mosquitoes began to breed
I moved out
I think of the suckerfish often. Think of how much
It sucked to be that fish.
We’re all that fish, Aren’t we.
Violets Growing in Scum
The scum is a cool green Fiestaware plate
There is one violet in the center
Somehow alive and trying to sing a song
Trying to sing Vivaldi in the green scum
Standing proudly
I have survived even this, she sings
A butterfly lands on the violet and plants an egg
I want to step on them both but I don’t
Things take care of themselves
The butterfly drops into the green scum
And flutters around until it pulls itself under
And soon after, the flower wilts and sinks
To the bottom
The scum is a cool green Fiestaware plate
There is one violet in the center
Nobody can see it anymore
Rebel With Menopause
I want to go to city hall
And turn off the power main
Right in the middle of a big meeting
As if it will make any difference
I want to go to city hall
And take one screw out
Every day for the next ten years
As if anyone will notice
I want to go to city hall
And plant marijuana seeds
In the garden and call the police to
Arrest all the commissioners
I want to go to city hall
Into the mayor’s office and pretend
I’m Shelly Winters and start singing
Show tunes until they come for me
I want to go to city hall
Wearing only a cock ring and a
Clothespin— you guess where I put
The clothespin
I want to go to city hall
Up to the high security doors to the
Meeting rooms and bang on them and
Scream, "Let me in my building!"
I want to go to city hall
And tie tampons in everyone’s hair
Tampons soaked in blood from
Manatees and Florida panthers
I want to go to city hall
With a protest sign that says, "I
Protest!" And I want to shout, "I protest!
I can’t take it anymore!"
I want to go to city hall
And tell the media that I’m protesting
And when they ask me what I’m protesting
I’ll tell them, "Nothing. I’m just protesting."
Futility
A snail was making its way
Across the sidewalk
Ever so slowly
And I watched for an hour
The snail making its way
Across the sidewalk
Ever so slowly
And when the snail
Finally made its way
Across the sidewalk
Ever so slowly
I picked it up and put it
Back where it started from
The Rules of Love
Love is the most important thing
In the world
But there are some rules to abide by
To properly love
#1. Don’t make love with your friends. Friends
Are for friendship. Lovers should be people you
Can easily get rid of.
#2. Don’t say, "I love you." It will ruin everything.
Instead say, "Would you like to fuck?"
#3. When making love to your lover, be sure to
Never tell them who you are imagining them to be
When you’re having an orgasm.
#4. Try to flirt with other people only when your
Lover isn’t watching you.
#5. When you cheat, try to keep it a secret so your
Lover won’t dump you. You don’t want to lose all that
Free money.
#6. Make sure you only steal thing your lover might
Not miss. Don’t take all the bills in the purse, just take
A few. This works better if your lover comes home drunk.
#7. Always make eye contact when you lie, and don’t
Blink too much. Sell the lie.
#8. If things become so routine that you plan on
Getting married, make sure you buy a ring that looks
Expensive but really isn’t. a used ring is best, or a ring
Stolen from your last lover.
#9. Don’t masturbate when your lover is around. You don’t
Want your lover to know you need to get off without them
Sometimes… lots of times.
#10. Remember the golden rule of love: What’s important is
What people believe; not the truth.
Whiskey Can Turn Anyone
Into Someone You Can Fuck
It usually only takes a shot or two
But sometimes a bottle will not do
I Was Looking For You in the Library
I checked under butterflies
And planets and art
I looked in the science section
And checked in the literature isle
I tried to find you under poetry
But you were not there
I was sure you were a flower
I tried law and sports and
All the books on chess
You were nowhere to be found
Were you hiding from me?
Why?
Why when I love you so much?
I went through Tolstoy, Einstein, Beethoven,
Faust, the Bible, every periodical and magazine
Jung, Robert Frost, Rimbaud, I almost thought
I saw you in Rimbaud but I was mistaken
Just as I had given up hope, I found you there
Where I should have looked from the beginning
Crystal Clear: The Story of Diamonds
By McKay
I haven’t returned it yet
And the overdue notices keep coming
Live at the Downtown Plaza
After building and rebuilding the
Downtown Plaza, they finally got it right
There’s a nice canopy over the stage
And every Friday, a local band plays
But my favorite show is
The two bums who sleep on the stage
Every night under their piss soaked quilts
Two bums sleep. It should win the Tony
It’s so real, almost like they’re not acting
Almost like two people trying to escape
Hell for real
Mostly nobody comes to the show because
It runs so late and so long
But I’ve caught it several times and there’s
No better performance in town
Not at the Hippodrome or the college theater
Not even at the community playhouse
All that stuff is fake and the prices for the tickets
Are so expensive
But this show is so real and free to watch
Sometimes they turn in their sleep but mostly
They just lie there. It’s so avant-garde, I can’t stand it!
I’m going to invite all my friends and we’ll have
Dinner and cocktails on the patio, watching
The two bums who sleep on the stage
Hell, these guys don’t even bow, they just
Get up and walk around asking for money
The Rat Had a Finger in its Mouth
This hairy wet rat
Came running by
With a finger in its
Mouth
Look at that rat, my
Friend said, it’s got a
Finger
A human finger
Hanging out of its
Mouth
How about that, I said,
I’ve never seen such a
Thing before
The rat had a
Finger in its mouth
And it came running by
Across the street and
Down into the sewer
Drain
Finger and all
I wonder whose finger
It was, I said
Yeah, said my friend,
Me too.
Fight the Poem
This thing almost wouldn’t let me write it
It resisted with every ounce of strength
Throwing punches and kicks
I was swollen and bleeding, trying
To get the motherfucker down
On the page for the one two three count
Probably the baddest poem of all
It must have been in training for months
To give me such a fight— jab uppercut right cross
I stabbed with my pen hammered with my
Typewriter crunched and shimmied with my
Word processor but the poem dodged
Flanked sidestepped turned played
Rope-a-dope cussed and danced and stung
Round four I had the cut man open my eyes
Blood poured down my face
This was one tough sonovabitch! But I had
Seen all its fights and studied the moves
I knew what was coming and just when the
Chips were down and it tried to clock me
For the knockout, I slipped around the blow
And cold cocked it under the chin
It was dazed, and a one two flourish with a
Screaming left hook dropped it to the mat
One two three… the crowd was on its feet
Four five six… the shouts and cat calls echoed
Seven eight nine… get up! Shouted the corner man
Don’t let this pussy have his day in the sun
Ten. It was knocked out cold.
I had won another poem.
